There is, without question, for most young men, a kind of fascination with war and the opportunity it offers to test one's manhood. Nineteen year-old Steve MacDonald frankly states early on in his memoir of the Vietnam war that he enlisted because he "wanted to know what it was like to go to war." He also notes that he came from a family that was closely connected with the Marine Corps, so, in a sense, he was also carrying on a family tradition. An ex-Catholic (what the Church would call "fallen away"), MacDonald makes it clear on more than one occasion that his only religion was an uneasy belief in the fickle god of Luck. At one point he comments that the only time he even thought about praying was when he paused for a moment inside a small Buddhist temple while on a patrol through a deserted village in the DMZ.
"It did feel like a holy place ... It seemed to be showing the way to peace, to a serenity that made me want to join in the prayer or contemplation. Being there was the closest I'd come to praying for a long time."
MacDonald guides you ably through the trials of boot camp at Parris Island, then advanced training as a field radio operator, survival training in California and, finally, his overseas deployment to WESTPAC. In Okinawa he quickly and awkwardly divests himself of the burden of his virginity with a prostitute, an act that was over before he'd even finished negotiating the terms. Then on to Vietnam where he is assigned to a Headquarters and Supply unit, which would have been a fairly safe berth. But, unwilling to settle for this "REMF" assignment, MacDonald volunteers for several assignments with infantry line units and does his time in the bush, dodging sniper fire and coming under frequent enemy shelling. After one particularly close call from "friendly fire," a white-faced MacDonald tells a friend, "I wouldn't want to be in the North Vietnamese Army. It must be a bitch getting bombed all the time." A statement which seems to reveal at least a remnant of his former naivete and boyish innocence.
Everthing about a combat memoir is here - the mud, the misery, the fear and excitement, an R&R to Taipei, and, finally, the flight home, back to "the world." And it's a world that is hostile and unwelcoming to the returning veteran, as so many Vietnam vets discovered during the unhappy decade our troops spent in the quagmire of that ultimately unwinnable war.
In the final analysis, while MacDonald does a good job of describing "what it was like to go to war," his narrative in WAR STORIES often seems curiously flat and emotionless. Scenes of firefights, grisly maimings and deaths fell slightly short of showing the reader how truly horrifying it must have really been. I wondered if the forty years the author has spent turning those long-ago experiences over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of them, somehow removed the passion from this recounting. Or perhaps, as he suggests himself, he is still suffering from PTSD, still wrestling with it all, unable or unwilling to face the actual demons of such a traumatic experience.
While reading MacDonald's book, I naturally thought of other Vietnam books I have read over the years. One that came to mind almost immediately was Karl Marlantes's recent bestselling novel, MATTERHORN, which was followed a year later by his non-fiction personal account and study of war with a title oddly similar to MacDonald's reason for enlisting, WHAT IT IS LIKE TO GO TO WAR. Stephen MacDonald could have used the same title for his book. He served honorably. One wonders if he knows yet, clearly, exactly what it means to go to war, and what, finally, its cost.
- Tim Bazzett, author of the Cold War memoir, SOLDIER BOY: AT PLAY IN THE ASA